


and a flask of Whyren's Reserve

by izzybeth



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Hoth, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzybeth/pseuds/izzybeth
Summary: Wes Janson celebrates Taanabian new year.





	and a flask of Whyren's Reserve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/gifts).



> Hello dear recipient! I defaulted this year, I am not happy to say (thanks to my first semester at Real Big Girl University), so I have written you a treat of some (hopefully) cute new years fluff. With pilots.

The door to Wes and Hobbie’s freezing quarters slid open, and the sight inside made Wedge’s eyebrows crawl up his face without permission from his brain. Next to him, Tycho exhaled softly through his nose in a not-quite laugh.

Hobbie and Wes were crammed on a single bunk, which would normally only be a little bit crowded, except their cold weather gear took up enough space between them for another human. Wes’s legs were in Hobbie’s lap, and Hobbie had draped himself over Wes’s hip and his booted feet dangled off the side of the bunk.

Various sized and colored bottles of Sullustan gin, lomin ale, an unlabeled distillation the delicate shade of Chandrila’s sea, Ralltiirian brandy, something poisonous that had clearly fermented in a discarded bacta tank, and what could only be a preciously guarded transparisteel flask of Whyren’s Reserve clustered on Wes’s footlocker, clanking together softly as Hobbie knocked his foot into it. “Uh. Hi, Wedge.”

“Hi. What’s with all the contraband, guys?”

“Happy new year?” Wes offered from his position, head hanging off the bunk and glass of gin dangling from his gloved fingers.

“It’s not the new year, Wes,” Wedge said, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind him. “I really shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“Does Hoth even have a calendar?” Tycho mused.

“It is on Taanab,” Wes said, ignoring Tycho, righting himself, and miraculously not spilling his gin. “We’re supposed to drink.” He lifted the glass in Wedge’s direction. “Your life and health.”

Wedge nodded. “Thanks. But—”

“Death to the Empire.” Hobbie grabbed the mystery poison bottle and took a swig.

Wes gently pulled it from Hobbie’s fingers. “Careful with that stuff, buddy, you know the mechanics have intestines of iron.”

Tycho took the bottle from Wes and sniffed the contents. He coughed. “Oof.”

“Puts hair on your chest,” said Hobbie.

“Yeah, and burns it out of my nose,” said Tycho.

“Does it? I mean… don't drink the rotgut.” Wedge took the bottle from Tycho, gave a wary yet curious eye, and set it down.

“We-e-edge,” Wes said. He picked up the flask and waggled it in Wedge’s direction. “It’s Whyren’s Reserve. Come celebrate my native folkways.”

Wedge looked torn. He sighed. “Where did you even get that.”

"He won it." Hobbie made a grab for the bottle of mechanics' rotgut but Tycho nudged it out of his reached. "In sabacc. Off Rieekan."

"No kidding." Wedge made a move toward the bunk, and more importantly, toward the flask, when his communicator beeped. "Kriff. Antilles here."

"Wedge, it's me." Luke's tinny voice emitted from the speaker. "Where are you, we were going to train the tauntauns to respond to names that will make Madine yell when he finds out."

"I know, but I got caught up." He caught Wes's eye, who nodded. "Come to Janson's quarters. Bring that jar of spicebrew I know you have. And bring Leia too if you can find her." The communicator gave an acknowledging click and went silent. "Tycho, let's find some more seating. We can't very well have a new year party sitting on a floor made of ice."

"Yesss," said Wes.

Later, six people were somehow crammed into a room made for two but truly only accommodating for one, and the walls were condensating with their warmth.

Leia raised the bottle of Sullustan gin. "Happy Taanabian new year, Janson." They all knocked bottles and glasses together and drank. Hobbie's eyes watered but he clutched the bottle of rotgut close when Tycho tried to take it away.

"So generally there are speeches and stories and feats of strength, but it's too cold for much of that." Wes looked uncommonly serious. "So I'll just say, may we all still be alive this time next year."

"So we can do this again?" Hobbie knocked his knee against Wes's.

"But maybe not on Hoth," Wedge added. "Leia, can our next base be somewhere nice? Like Contruum or Takodana?"

"Sure, Wedge, I'll get right on that," Leia said.


End file.
